The end of the line
by storm-petrel
Summary: -heartbreak, heartache. Ashes, ashes, they all fall down- RemusSirius, for Chang


**A/N so this is a birthday present for Chang (shiny-chang) and it's only a day late which I am inordinately proud of, but it's shit and doesn't make any sense, and I think the sock was probably the better of the two presents, Chang. **

_**It's the end of the line for us baby. It's the end of the line**_

His eyes are like Dementors, black-hole dark and rotting, bleeding mouldy darkness. They claw you in and you breathe dead air and think, this is living, eh?

-he's a corpse with painted smirks, a skeleton falling out of a cupboard, a pile of ashes waiting to collapse-

There is brown beer bottle glass on the floor and your bare feet crunch over the tiles. Blood paints a cobweb-line along your big toe and you cling to it like he clings to your heart, skeletal arms wrapping tight around muscles and tugging dusty threads together.

_there were so many words you wanted to say_

He sits in the shadows on grey curbs and tilts his head back to the neon lights above him, smoke climbing from his throat like fearless people climb up gorges and mountains and precipices just so they won't be forgotten.

_I don't want to be anonymous, he mouths. There's too much I want to say to be forgotten, too much emotion inside me to fade away. So many lives and they're all so achingly beautiful and they all fall into the dust. Are we beautiful enough?_

_Only the short ones are remembered. No one wants to hear about long and happy lives. It's the painful ones we want to remember. Heartache, heartbreak. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

He kisses you with too much Firewhiskey between you and the cold winter air in your heart and his eyes suck out your soul

He runs wild at night and lures Muggle girls into alleys with pretty words and soul-sucking eyes and steals Muggle drugs and leaves smoke clinging to your sheets. Some days you think about leaving him, about tearing your soul free from the black-hole shackles and leaving rotting hands like chains behind you, but you need him like he needs you- (not at all) far too much.

_You're going to die, you shout at him. You're going to be tortured and murdered and die and then what will I be left with, once all this is over?_

_Oh grow up Moony. He tosses the words over his shoulder like careless daggers kissing your skin. You really believe that there's some kind of life for us after this? He gestures with arms thrown wide. This is it for us, Moony. We're_ all_ going to die. It's the end of the line._

James rubs his too large hands over his too tired face like he can wipe away the lines that shouldn't be there and Harry screams in his pram, screams like beginnings that will never be, and Sirius laughs, dark and mad-ugly, bleeding rotted souls.

He could never survive without the war- he was built for it, he lives on it. He's a mad-laughing, killing creature who speaks with green light and fights like he was born for it, and there's no place for people like him in peace. Without souls to feed on and blood to spill, he is nothing. Regardless of the outcome, there is no life for Sirius Black after the war.

_You kiss him with spring rain beading your hair and his long fingers cling to your heart._

His eyes bleed little pieces of consumed souls into the air and you breathe them in with rough lips parted wide gasping sucking in and they settle like the dust from ancient mummified figures in your lungs and poison you slowly from the inside out.

_When the summer sun fractures through window panes and shatter into his eyes you breathe your soul into his metallic mouth, and you know you're drowning because the sun doesn't seem to reach you._

The fighting sucks you dry, or maybe it's the Dementor eyes but whichever way the outcome is the same- you're full of oddly shaped emptiness and just might burst from the pricking of needles against your skull.

_In the autumn air your breath mists together in the distance between your bodies and foggy windows obscure him from view._

**A/N apologies once again. I've got too used to writing drabbles, this is all bitty and disjointed and ugh and I promise I'll write you a better one some day in the not too distant future.**


End file.
